A Little Time Off For Bad Behavior
by Aria34
Summary: Therapy was supposed to help Bucky heal. Help him remember his past so he could live a somewhat normal future. Therapy, however, was not supposed to end with him bending his therapist over her desk in the middle of their appointment...again.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Avengers or anything Marvel related!**

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The ticking clock seemed louder today than it was last week. Bucky tilted his head slightly to glance at it, double-checking that it was still the same clock.

It was.

His heart pounded, echoing in his ears like it always did when he saw her. He felt something when he saw Dr. Sagan. _Gemma_. It was the only reason he kept coming to these appointments. That, and a promise to Steve- a promise he was determined to keep. He couldn't label the emotion, it was something he hadn't felt in a long time. Too long.

Rage? No, he remembered rage. He'd felt it all too often as The Asset.

Hopelessness? No, he felt it every day now. He knew how that felt.

Whatever it was, it was a welcome break from the monotony of feeling like he was lost.

She sat across from him, as usual, with crossed ankles and perfect posture. Her crisp, white blouse gaped at the neck, showing just a hint of a sharp collarbone every time she looked down to scribble something on a notepad.

 _She sits like a lady._ A bright memory flashed before his eyes- A pretty brunette crossing her ankles the way the doctor in front of him was. The harder Bucky tried to grasp the memory, the hazier it seemed.

They had been in some diner in Brooklyn, him and Steve, back before Steve was Captain America. They'd been laughing at something when two good looking girls came in, all red lipstick, perfect curls and sweet perfume. They walked like they were used to having eyes on them- which, to be fair, they probably were.

They'd looked like money.

He had watched one of them more carefully than the other- brunettes had always been his type. _And what a brunette she was_. She'd sat down gracefully, shining brown curls falling over her shoulder as she smoothed her skirts and crossed her ankles delicately. She tugged off her white gloves and laid them in her lap. Red nail polish glittered, a perfect match to her lips and the silky bow in her hair. feeling his gaze on her, she turned. Whiskey-smooth eyes glanced over him, appraising him like something she might buy in a shop.

Bucky desperately tried to claw his fingers into the memory. Something had happened after that- had she smiled invitingly? Had she turned away in dismissal? _Did he ever learn her name?_

He frowned in concentration, searching the depths of his memory for that happened next- but it was gone. Disappeared like smoke.

It had been happening more frequently these days, memories coming and going at the slightest hint of something familiar- car horns, children's shouts on a playground, women giggling and whispering behind their hands. They all took him back to a time before the war. But it was never enough. The glimpses into his old life made him ravenous to know more- to know _everything_. He knew he used to laugh easily but it was so hard now.

Steve had seen the frustration in his eyes time and time again when Bucky couldn't remember so he'd suggested that Bucky come see Dr. Sagan. The first three times Bucky had ignored the subtle advice. He would have kept ignoring it, but then one afternoon, Steve had dropped him off in front of the good doctor's office without any warning.

That had been more than a month ago. Dr. Sagan and Bucky had sat in silence across from each other that day- and every week since.

The agreement between Steve and Bucky was that Steve would stop asking questions if Bucky came to his appointments. And since Bucky could handle an hour of silence once a week better than hours of questions from his best friend from a past life, he kept making appointments and to everyone's surprise, he kept going to them.

From the outside, it must have seemed functional- a man seeing a therapist once a week to overcome personal challenges.

But so far, for the past three weeks, the only words between them had been quick greetings and even quicker goodbyes- she always called him Sergeant Barnes in that cool, professional tone. He hated hearing the title on her lips. The rest of the hour was filled with tense silence and a lot of avoided eye-contact.

Bucky sighed in defeat at another lost memory and let his eyes drift back to the clock.

3:51- not even halfway through his weekly hour of silence. Not like he was talking much the rest of the week. But this hour was always worse because he felt her eyes on him the entire time.

He moved suddenly, resting his forearms on his knees and dropping his head in defeat. Even with Steve by his side, he felt more lost now than he'd ever felt as The Asset. At least when they froze him, he didn't have to suffer through the emptiness in his heart.

His fingers flexed, clenching in an attempt to control his rage. Whenever he thought about his time locked away in that frigid basement, he felt Hydra's poisonous words flood his brain. He could feel the other side of him- the unfeeling, harsh weapon they had turned him into- trying to reclaim his body.

He shot out of his seat, startling Dr. Sagan slightly, and paced toward the window. He'd found that anything green, any hint of nature and open space could calm him down when he was close to losing himself. Without even turning around, he knew she hadn't moved at all. That irritated him for some reason. She seemed so certain that he could never hurt her- sitting 6 feet away from him in those impractical shoes. She didn't know what he was capable of, she didn't know that he could cover the space between them and snap any one of her bones- her wrists, her legs, her neck- with absolutely no effort at all. She'd be dead before she knew what was coming.

She didn't know, _did she?_ The question bothered him more than he cared to admit. No one sane would consent to being alone with him for an hour each week. But it wasn't in Steve's style to lie or withhold important information like that. Bucky couldn't fathom what Steve could possibly have told her.

"What time is it, Dr. Sagan?" His voice sounded rusty and unused even to his ears.

"3:56, Sergeant Barnes." Her voice was confident, yet quiet. Smooth and calm, maybe the brunette from the diner 80 years ago would have sounded like Dr. Sagan.

He turned and walked toward her with narrowed eyes, "I'm no Sergeant."

She nodded toward a thin file on her desk. "Your service record lists that as your rank."

"I'm no Sergeant." He repeated as he stood before her. She still hadn't moved. Not an inch.

She nodded once and jotted something into her notepad.

A quick glance at the wall showed 4:00. Another 30 minutes of this quiet hell. If not for the ticking of the clock, he might have thought he'd gone deaf some days.

He suddenly needed her to move. Needed her to show some sign that she was as uncomfortable in the dense silence as he was.

He leaned over her and braced palms, one flesh and one metal, on the sides of her leather armchair. Her only movement was to tilt her head up to maintain eye contact.

"If you knew half the things I've done- you wouldn't let me anywhere near you." His voice was flat.

She watched his face carefully, hoping for some change in his expression. The lack of emotion in his voice bothered her- as both a doctor and a fellow human being. This was the only thing he'd ever said about his past and he seemed so detached from it.

She froze and waited, hoping he would continue speaking.

"Do you know how many people I've killed?" He asked tonelessly. "Innocent people?"

She shook her head and silently shaped the word "no" with her lips.

He brought his hand up, a bright flash in in her peripheral vision told her that it was his metal hand, and grasped her jaw. His hold was just loose enough to not bruise her skin.

"Of course you don't-" His voice had changed- become dark with hate. "A pretty, rich girl like you wouldn't have any idea."

Gemma brought her hand up slowly, gently brushing her fingertips against the cold, smooth metal of his wrist. As she was about to wrap her fingers around the metal, he ripped his hand away as if her skin had burned him.

He placed his hand back on the arm of her chair, caging her in again, watching her like one would watch an animal in a zoo. Gemma picked up her pen and notepad and stood, forcing him to back up and move his hands. She covered the short distance to her desk and dropped her notepad on his file. Standing with her back to him, she spoke- less steady this time, "If you'd prefer a different doctor, Mr. Barnes, I would be more than happy to recommend some excellent names."

"Maybe I don't want to talk." He was right behind her, close enough that she could feel his body heat warming her back. His voice was low and threatening- barely more than a whisper, but it made the hair on the nape of her neck rise. "Not to you or to anyone else."

She turned her head to the side, giving him an unobstructed view of her profile, "Then I suppose thi-"

His hand, this time the flesh one, closed around her upper arm and yanked her around to face him. "Why are you wasting your time with me?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyes darted down down to where his fingers were wrapped around her arm. This time his grasp was tight enough to leave a bruise.

"You sit with me. In dead silence," He ground out the words. "Why are you wasting your time?"

"Mr. Barnes." She raised her hands between them, pressing her palms to his chest to push him back. He didn't move an inch. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you're the first patient who hasn't wanted to speak with me the first few days." She gave up and dropped her hands, curling them into fists, "I wanted to give you an opportunity to speak, whether on not you chose to take it."

His fingers tightened fractionally as they stood- his blue eyes coldly staring into her grey ones. Than, without any warning, he kissed her. A very distant part of her brain registered it as a kiss, but she knew it wasn't that simple. He didn't just press his lips to hers- no, he _consumed_ her. It was a kiss intended to destroy. She stood frozen under his assault, mind split in to warring pieces. One part of her was horrified by the situation and by her unwillingness to push him away and immediately terminate their professional relationship. Another part worried that any movement on her part would send him hurtling back into the dark cavern of his despair. A third, much more perverse part, enjoyed the kiss in it's brutal glory and wanted more, more, _more_. A growl vibrated through his body as he brought his metal hand up and burrowed it into her hair.

The third part of her brain took over.

She moved her hands without realizing, intent on grasping his shirt, or wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer, but caught herself at the last second. Her hands stilled, mere inches from his back, and slowly descended to her sides where she curled her fingers around the edge of her desk. He might not welcome her hands on him- there was no way to know if he would accept her touch or fling her off and leave.

He captured her glossy brown hair in a fist and wrenched her head back, sending hot sparks of pain down her neck and forcing a shocked gasp from her lips. Her wide, cautious eyes met his, but all he could feel was disgust. "Should've known," his voice was filled with self-loathing as he watched her face. "Pretty, rich girl like you can't even touch me."

He released her hair and pulled back, leaving her leaning against the desk. Before he could take a step, she grabbed a handful of his shirt and jerked him close again. "Just watch me." her voice came out braver than she felt- sounding more like a dare than anything else.

There was no hesitation this time when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, throwing herself into a kiss- just as biting as the first one. The sudden shift in power set Bucky on edge. He knew how to be when _he_ was the one calling the shots, but he hadn't factored in her unpredictability.

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 **Hello All!**

 **Lots of news below for you lovely people!**

 **1.** First of all, what do you think? Should I continue this or not?

 **2.** I have a Thor/OC one-shot coming out soon because so many of you said there's not enough Thor/OC fics! It's also going to be rated M because who doesn't want to daydream about sex with Thor? It's going to be called _**Lightning in a Bottle**._

 **3.** I'm almost done with the next chapter of _**Bring Me Back to Life**_ so look forward to an update for that next week!

 **As always, please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-M-**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Avengers or anything Marvel related!**

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Bucky stood before her, unable to react for a moment as her arms snaked around his shoulders decisively.

She was _supposed_ let him let him walk away; or better yet, she should have violently shoved him back when he'd kissed her. But instead, _she_ was kissing _him_ now. Soft lips moving against his own, hands caressing his shoulders.

His arms wrapped around her, hoisting her up onto her desk and jerking her blouse from the waistband of her skirt. At the touch of his cold metal arm against her back, she moaned against his lips.

She'd never been with a man like him before- one who scared her just as much as he attracted her. Of course, as any professional doctor would have done- within seconds of meeting him, she'd shoved any feelings of attraction deep down and put on her most clinical mask. But that had never stopped her from looking forward to their appointment every week. One uninterrupted hour when she could devour him with her eyes.

Gemma gasped as he moved suddenly, spreading her knees and stepping into her embrace. He impatiently dragged her skirt up- stopping only when it was bunched around her hips. He finally wedged himself between her thighs and pressed his body to hers. Instinctually, her legs curled around his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs as she ran her palms down his muscled arms and up his chest.

His hand was back in her hair, sifting chestnut-brown waves between his fingers and tugging her head back with a deft twist. Bruising lips moved to her neck, biting and sucking, leaving red marks on her smooth, tan skin. Her breathy gasps against his ear told him she was enjoying it.

Every action, every kiss, seemed to be recalled from an expertly choreographed dance- but Bucky didn't know how he knew it. He had no memories of being near a woman like this. But he knew, somehow, that he'd done this before. His body remembered it, even if his mind didn't.

Gemma snuck one hand around his neck and pulled his lips back to hers in a rough kiss.

Her hips moved against his, grinding circles against the fly of his jeans, desperately searching for more. His hand around her hips pulled her closer- giving them both more, but not enough, of what they needed. Metal fingers glimmered in her peripheral for a brief moment before they hooked into the white, linen neckline of her blouse. One quick tug and her shirt tore down the front, raining tiny pearl buttons onto the floor and desk.

He broke away from her lips and looked down at her with shadowed eyes, no hint of a smile, just ravenous for her. Delicate blue lace and acres of golden skin beckoned him. Her fingers slid up into his hair, sharp nails scoring his scalp and guiding him to where she needed him. She arched her back, thrusting her breasts to his lips.

"Oh God, James," His teeth grazed her soft skin, rewarding her with tiny nips for every gasp he pulled from her lips.

At some point, she'd shrugged the straps off her shoulders and let him drag her bra down to her waist, out of the way of his lips and hands. Her hands tangled in his shoulder-length hair ad he absolutely devoured her- hands massaging, lips sucking, and teeth grazing over her delicate body. Her legs, bracketing his heavily muscled thighs, swung up to wrap around his hips, bringing him close until they were pressed together- shoulders to hips.

Her teasing, rocking motions had him multi-tasking, one hand grabbing her hips and the other, the metal one, yanking at the lace covering her hot center and tearing it- leaving the scraps fluttering around her thighs. He switched hands suddenly, banding the metal arm across her back and pushing his own hand between her thighs. She thought he would just thrust his fingers into her- rough and fast like when he kissed her. But he didn't. While he wasn't gentle, he took his time, savoring the gasps and moans from her lips. He brushed the backs of his fingers over her folds, then teased her with his thumb. All the while, his lips worked up her neck and jaw; the stubble scraping against her skin felt like heaven.

She desperately pulled him closer, begging in broken words, "Please, James- I need- Oh!" Her hips moved in time with his fingers, "Oh God!"

A glimpse of his eyes sent her heart pounding. They were wicked and glittering with lust. Before she could pull his face to hers, he heeded her pleas and pressed into her- a long, deep stroke with his fingers curled _just right_. He didn't stop there. Pulling his fingers out slowly, he thrust them back in, watching her arch up to meet his hand. He bowed his head, watching his hand work between her thighs and savoring her choked moans, muffled against his chest. She turned her head a fraction of an inch and laved brutal kisses against his neck- using her teeth and sucking hard.

"Oh," Gemma moaned and dropped her head back, bracing her free hand on the desk behind her, trying to roll her hips off the table.

Digging her fingers into his hair, she pulled his face to hers, kissing him with a hot fury before breaking away. She inched back, making room for her hand to go between them to wrestle with his belt. As he worked at her, she unzipped his pants and reached in, softly palming at him through his underwear. She watched his jaw clench as she stroked him, fire blazing in his eyes as he stared at her. His metal fingers dug painfully into her hip- she was certain that she'd have bruises in the morning. It wasn't enough for either of them- she had to know what he sounded like when he moaned. She snuck one hand into his underwear, biting her lip when she reached his silky, iron-hard length.

His head dropped back, eyes sliding shut in utter pleasure when her fingers curled around him. With her free hand, she quickly shoved his jeans and underwear down his thighs. She circled her thumb over the tip and grazed the underside gently with the backs of her fingernails.

Then she took him in a firm grasp, working up and down, trembling in delight when his lips parted, "Ah, fuck-"

That first moan set her alight all over again. Between sloppy kisses, Bucky pulled his fingers out of her and braced both hands on her thighs, squeezing tight as she continued. He glanced down every so often, watching her hand move slowly and then faster in response to his cues- changing her tempo just enough to constantly keep him on edge. Then he'd trail his eyes back up, warming her bare skin and yank her back in for another kiss, letting louder groans escape into her mouth.

Without warning, he released her thigh and grabbed her wrist, wrenching it away from him. The look on his face was absolutely terrifying- enough to send chills down her spine. Just a little tighter and he would easily have been able to snap her wrist. He released her and reached down to fist himself as his metal arm hooked around her back. In the beat of a moment, he lined himself up with her entrance and slowly thrust into her.

Gemma's eyes shot open and her lips parted, a silent gasp leaving her lungs as he filled her, stretched her. Bucky didn't see, his head dropped- forehead pressing against the ridge of her shoulder. He hadn't held back at all – Bucky was buried inside her to the hilt. It was sudden, and rough, and intrusive…and so, so hot.

For a solid moment, he stayed still; savoring how she felt. He was not at all disappointed. She was so tight around him - and it had been so long. He'd never even thought of fucking anyone when he'd been The Asset. HYDRA's cocktail of drugs was enough to render even the most virile man completely useless. Not to mention the programming that had imprisoned him inside his own mind. Now, buried inside a willing, pliant woman, he wanted to do more than fuck her, he wanted to ravage her. He couldn't be gentle, not that he had been 'till then. Breaking him out of his dark thoughts, Gemma flexed her innermost muscles, clenching around him in a constricting grip and it broke his last vestige of control.

Hooking his fingers under her thigh, Bucky guided Gemma's leg higher around his hip. It nudged him even deeper inside her, making both of them gasp.

Gemma's fingernails dug into the back of his neck as she adjusted to him. The sharp pinch spurred Bucky to move. His fingers flexed around her thigh and he slowly eased himself out of her. He raised his head off her shoulder, watching her face, listening to her heavy breaths. He couldn't wait any longer- he plunged back into her in one smooth movement.

The thrust tore a cry from Gemma's lips and her back arched, presenting her breasts to his wicked, wicked lips. One hand slid up into his hair, twisting the strands tightly, and the other fisted in the back of his shirt- the one he hadn't let her take off.

She didn't care though – her hands held fast as he pulled back and thrust again, just a little rougher than the first one. And after that he didn't stop.

"Oh God, Jam-" her choked pleas were cut off by every thrust. "James, pleas-"

"Bucky," She almost missed his low groan against her neck, "it's Bucky."

"Bucky," she tested the name on her lips, shocked when the very sound forced a groan against her neck, rough and desperate.

With every thrust, she shuddered, crossing her ankles at his back, holding him prisoner between her thighs. Her arms around his shoulders held on desperately.

She loved the sensation of cold metal against her back and a warm palm on her thigh, holding her in place as he thrust relentlessly. She could feel every thick finger digging into her flesh and she relished the thought of the bruises he would inevitably leave on her.

Each thrust had his hips stroking just where she needed it. A little more, just one light brush of her fingertip, would have her over the edge.

She slid one hand between them, intent on reaching the place which could have her screaming. Just as she got close enough for that last bit of stimulation, his hand wrapped around her wrist and jerked it back, holding it captive behind her back.

"Please, Bucky," she cried, uncaring about how desperate she sounded. "Oh God, just let me-" she dropped her forehead to his shoulder and begged, "I just need a little mo- Oh!"

His metal hand snuck between her thighs and brushed against her. The sudden cold combined with Bucky's pounding hips set her on fire.

Her nails dug into the back of his neck, holding him close to muffle her whimpers against the soft fabric at his shoulder. He didn't let up. His metal hand worked at her, gently stroking circles over and over, keeping her at her peak. Her body stilled as her muscles convulsed around him, clinging to him with all the strength she possessed. His hand drew out her pleasure, making her buck uncontrollably against him while her legs tightened into a painful vice around his hips.

Her nonsensical words begging for respite fell on deaf ears as Bucky leaned back and watched her face. Her hand shakily left his shoulders to push at his metal arm. Her attempts were weak and pathetic, but Bucky took pity and eased his fingers off her center- letting her recover for just long enough to suck in a deep breath.

Then he began chasing his own pleasure. Bucky couldn't hold back, he thrust erratically in to her- no sense of grace or rhythm any longer. She had tightened around him so much, sent so many convulsions through her innermost muscles that he was nearly there. With a final brutal thrust he hilted himself in Gemma let himself pour into her- for the first time in God knows how long.

His eyes closed of their own accord as he let go. Finally after a few long seconds, Bucky let his head fall forward onto Gemma's shoulder. He started to become aware of her limbs draped loosely around him, no strength left in her to even hold onto him anymore.

Easing out slowly, he heard her gasp weakly in his ear. As he leaned back slightly, against his better judgment, his lips pressed to her cheek.

He didn't give her a chance to respond as he pulled away, breaking out of her hold. It didn't even occur to him to make sure she was steady before he stepped back. Perched precariously at the edge of her desk, she nearly collapsed to the floor, but caught herself at the last second. With averted eyes, Bucky jerked up his underwear and pants and tucked himself back in.

Another step back.

Gemma self-consciously pulled the torn flaps of her shirt together and adjusted her skirt, pulling it down enough to cover her and the shreds of lace still dangling at her thighs.

The loud ring of her phone cut through the tense silence, startling them both. Gemma glanced over her shoulder, checking to see who the call was from- her receptionist. Turning back to face Bucky, she was met with an empty room- no sign of the man who'd just pounded into her until she was screaming his name. She narrowed her eyes at her door, which was slowly closing- evidence of his rapid escape. Sighing, she pulled her skirt down and turned.

The light on Gemma's phone blinked again, indicating a second call from her receptionist. This time, she'd be more impatient- if Gemma didn't answer, sweet, old Linda would burst into the office and come face to face with Gemma's bare chest. Nope- anything to avoid that scene. On shaky legs, Gemma rounded her desk, picking up the phone as she collapsed into the chair.

"Dr. Sagan, your 4:40 is here. Should I send him in?"

"I'll need 10 minutes to finish up some notes," Gemma lied- heart pounding as she spoke in what she hoped was a calm, professional voice- and not the voice of a woman who'd been fucked within an inch of her sanity. "I'll let you know when I'm ready for him."

"Of course, Dr Sagan." The line went silent with a quiet click.

Gemma's eyes darted toward her clock, 4:30, on the dot. He hadn't stayed for a second longer than he needed to. But, she'd learned one thing- Bucky, not James. She sighed and pushed away from her desk, pulling out her spare outfit, hoping her next patient wouldn't be able to smell the sex.

* * *

 **1.** Should I continue this or not? A couple more chapters of their...appointments, followed by an epilogue.

 **2.** I have a Thor/OC one-shot coming out soon because so many of you said there's not enough Thor/OC fics! It's also going to be rated M because who doesn't want to daydream about sex with Thor? It's going to be called _**Lightning in a Bottle**._

 **3.** Just started a Steve Rogers/OC story- **_Sing for Absolution_**

 **As always, please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-M-**

 **-M-**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own Avengers or anything Marvel related!**

* * *

Gemma stared at the clock- 3:18. Only 12 minutes until Mr. Barnes, _Bucky_ , would be here. Or at least, 12 minutes until he was supposed to be here.

She had no way of knowing whether he would actually show up. If she was a betting woman, she'd put all her money on him never coming back again. After all, that's what she would do if she was in his place. It'd be easier if he didn't come today (or ever again). Easier for her to pretend that she hadn't broken every rule in the book by sleeping with a patient. Although, she smirked at the thought, technically she hadn't exactly _slept_ with Bucky, she'd been fucked six ways to Sunday by him.

One loud tick echoed throughout the room as the minute hand moved- 11 minutes until his appointment.

She paced behind her desk, desperately trying to bring down her heart rate as she crossed her arms and hugged herself, trying to provide some sort of protection from the reality of the situation.

Not only had she thoroughly violated the ethical standards of her field (by letting herself be _thoroughly violated_ by a patient) she'd also let the worst possible patient do the violating! She couldn't be a normal person and fuck the patient who had just split up with his wife- no, she had to go and get real cozy with a 90 year old super soldier who could break her neck with one twist of his metal arm. In fact, who was she kidding? He probably wouldn't even need the metal arm, the regular one would do the job just fine. She wasn't exactly a physical challenge to a man like James Buchanan Barnes.

She shook her head and laughed humorlessly, why had she even agreed to take Mr. Barnes on as a patient? She'd left S.H.I.E.L.D. 4 years ago- clear and free. She didn't have many personal ties back there, just some casual acquaintances and one or two friend-like people. Although they all might have died when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell- she had no way to know. Stupidly, though, as if her private practice wasn't enough, she had let herself get sucked back into the soldiers and spies that used to make up her entire life.

As much as she wanted to throw the blame into someone else's lap, she couldn't. She'd gotten herself into this whole mess- mainly because she, as an individual, was weak.

She couldn't deny a personal request from Captain America. _Oh yeah._ The Captain, himself, had come knocking at her door several months back- all 210 pounds of him with his perfect hair and charmingly apologetic smile. He had been her patient once upon a time, right after they'd pulled him out of the ice.

Like the people who miraculously came out of a coma after 5 or 10 years, Steve had needed help coming to terms with a changed world. Obviously to a much greater degree, considering his coma was about 7 times as longer than that of the average miracle-patient. So she, a S.H.I.E.L.D. trained therapist who mainly focused on PTSD and combat therapy, had stepped in to work with him.

He'd done well- given the circumstances. Assimilated into the modern world well (although he still hated smartphones) and understood the vernacular of this new society (still didn't care much for swearing in front of ladies). Steve had been one of her most heartbreaking patients- but his sheer determination to understand the world gave him an edge. She knew he kept a lot of hopelessness inside- it showed on his face frequently. But even the cleaned up version of his past was enough to keep her up in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face.

So when he, with that irritatingly kind smile, had sat Gemma down and asked her to work with his friend. She couldn't say no. At first, she'd been elated that he had made friends so soon- but no- this was no new friend. This was Bucky Barnes. Steve's childhood best friend, Bucky. The guy who'd served in the army with Steve, Bucky. The guy who was _supposed_ to be long dead, Bucky.

At first, she'd considered telling Steve that she could recommend a better therapist- but logic had prevailed. Technically, there was no better therapist in this case. She was the most qualified to work with a 90-year-old super soldier because she was the only therapist in the world who had experience with them. She'd expected her new patient to be a Captain America type- someone silent and strong but willing to accept a helping hand.

Not at all what she'd gotten.

The first time she'd met the mysterious Bucky Barnes, she had seriously considered calling Steve to tell him she wouldn't be able to help. Then one look at the Sergeant's steely, blue eyes had shut that thought up right away. There hadn't been anything in those eyes- no anger or fear. They'd been completely blank- and that terrified her. But everything else about him had sent her heart pounding so loudly she knew he could hear it. He was a super soldier, after all. And her heart was beating so loudly that a normal person would have been able to hear it from across the room.

His hair was longer than it had been in the pictures she'd seen. And his eyes were shadowed- piercing through her like ice when he looked at her. He stood tall - taking up space, but completely silent. It was unnerving, really. To sit across from a man like that for weeks on end, and act like it was completely normal. Of course, she'd had patients who didn't speak to her for weeks, but none of them had looked anything like Bucky. She hadn't been scared of any of them. Or attracted to them.

Steve had told Gemma about _the arm_ \- but she hadn't seen it at all until the third week of their silence. Up 'till then, the Sergeant always wore long sleeves, gloves, and tucked his hand into his pocket. But that day, for some strange reason, he had forgone the gloves. So, as he stood up to leave, a bright sliver of metal reflected light into her eyes. It had been the only visual confirmation she had gotten. Even last week, on her desk, she had only seen flashes of silver out of the corner of her eye. But she'd _felt_ it- against her back, gripping her thigh, between her legs. And she wanted more. She had a twisted desire to press her lips to that cold, hard metal.

But, she rolled her eyes in disgust, _everything_ about the situation was twisted. She, a doctor, lusting after her patent, who clearly wasn't well at all. It was all so, so wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she stood and tried to calm her nerves.

It would be fine.

 _If_ he came, which was completely unlikely, she would sit across from him as she had for the past few months and wait for him to respond to her greeting. If he spoke, which was even more unlikely, she would listen and ask him questions.

Everything was going to be completely fine.

So why did she still feel so damn nervous? Crouching down, she unlocked the lowest drawer of her cabinet, pulling out a blank leather notebook and a pen. If he didn't want to speak, it was worth a try to ask him to take the journal home- maybe write his thoughts in it. She stood, crossed the short distance to her desk and slumped into her chair, turning slowly to face the clock, dread creeping in.

3:22.

* * *

Bucky stood outside her office, staring at the doors with a blank expression. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd come today- not like he'd been planning on it. When he had left her office last week after their… appointment, it was with the intention of never seeing her face again. But at some point over the past few days, a strange urge had come over him- he _wanted_ to see her again. He wanted to hear her say his name.

She'd been the second person to call him Bucky in God knows how many years. And more importantly, she'd been the first person he had _asked_ to call him Bucky. Steve called him that out of habit, but Dr. Sagan, _Gemma_ , called him that because he'd wanted her to.

 _And the way she said it._ It was like nothing he'd ever heard before. At least, nothing he remembered.

He'd had woken up more than once in the past week, in the middle of the night, with the echo of her voice in his ears. The way she had said his name- a hot, heavy gasp against his neck as he pounded into her. Her fingers tugging at his hair, smooth legs wrapped around his hips. The very memory sent Bucky reeling- it made him hard just to think about it.

He wanted, more than anything, to hear it again.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that close to a woman- probably sometime before HYDRA sank their claws in his brain- but he knew it felt right with Gemma. His mind still went blurry every time he tried to remember exactly what had happened. She'd been looking at him with those big, inky-dark eyes. He could hear her heart pounding fast and loud but hadn't been because she was scared of him. He couldn't name the emotion in her eyes- it wasn't fear or apprehension, so he didn't even know what it would be called.

It was something else. _She_ was something else.

One moment he was threatening her, trying to conjure fear into her eyes because he _knew_ how to handle fear. He had been vicious, telling her about murdering innocent people. And the next thing he remembered, he was kissing her hard. Holding her, grabbing her. Metal and flesh hands stroking over her soft, soft skin.

Some sane part of his brain had spoken up, snapping him back to reality. Yanking him away by the back of his collar. But _she_ hadn't let him go. She'd pulled him back and kissed him, ran her hands over his body. Touched him in a way that didn't cause pain or discomfort. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched him like that. The thin, frayed threads of his control had snapped the moment she'd gasped a broken, breathy plea against his lips.

He glanced down at his watch, 3:22. He could easily turn around and go home. Never come back again. The doctor didn't know anything about him other than what could be found in that pathetic museum exhibit. She had no way to find him- and Steve couldn't force him to come back.

He could leave right now. In fact, that would probably be best for everyone involved. But for some reason, he couldn't go. He stayed planted to the sidewalk as if nails had been driven through his feet. Which, if he was being honest with himself, HYDRA had probably done that to him at some point.

He really should leave, let the good doctor get on with her life. It would be wrong to walk in there today. But he just _couldn't_ make himself go.

* * *

As the minute hand slowly ticked to 4:03, Gemma inhaled deeply, he wasn't going to come today.

She was strangely disappointed. More than that, she was _sad_. She'd wanted to see him again. Not just because she was wildly attracted to him, but also because she wanted to know him. His memories, his dreams, his fears.

What had he said last week? _If you knew half the things I've done- you wouldn't let me anywhere near you._

What had he done that was so unforgivable? Was that why he seemed to hate himself so much? She knew he'd killed people, good and bad ones- he had told her as much. But he was a soldier- it was part of the job.

But what else?

She needed to know more, needed to know _everything_. But as another minute passed without a knock at her door, she slowly exhaled. The few words he'd said to her last week would have to be enough. Well, the words, and the memory of his hands on her thighs and his mouth against her neck.

The sudden image sent her brain into a haze. When she'd woken up the morning after their last meeting, she had been in real pain. A hot shower and a few ibuprofen had helped some, but the soreness between her legs had served as a constant reminder for the next few days. Every time she stood or sat down, an unexpected twinge had sent chills up her spine. She'd been aroused the entire time.

She'd been baffled by her sudden masochistic streak. Besides the pain, there were also the marks. She'd been absolutely _covered_ in bruises- some in the shape of handprints, where he'd circled her thighs and gripped her back, others were tiny and dark- at her throat and breasts where his sinful mouth had played over her skin.

She'd felt so wicked as she gently dabbed concealer over the bruises at her neck and wrist and tugged on a high-necked sweater to hide the marks on the delicate skin of her chest. It had been quite a task to keep everything hidden from her patients. Even now, the bite-marks on her chest hadn't faded and the handprint at her thigh was a violent shade of green.

Bucky hadn't held back with her. He'd fucked her hard and rough. The way he had needed it. And she loved every second of it.

She shook herself out of her stupor, uncomfortably wet and turned-on. It would have to wait until she got home. A nice glass of bourbon and some help from a reliable, battery-powered friend would take care of everything.

She stretched and cracked her neck. It was clear that Bucky wasn't going to show up. He'd been the last patient scheduled for the day- so Gemma stood, shoving down the disappointment, and pulled out some paperwork. Before she dropped back into her chair, she paused. She might as well tell Linda to go home, no need to man the desk when Gemma was just going to sit in her office for the rest of the evening. She dropped her papers to her desk and crossed the room, glancing down at her phone to check her messages as she pulled open her office door.

He was right there.

His icy, blank eyes bored into hers- looking vaguely surprised. She froze, staring at him as her heart rate shot through the roof.

"Dr. Sagan," Linda's eternally optimistic voice broke the awkward silence, "I was just about to let you know that Sergeant Barnes had arrived."

Gemma looked at her receptionist with what she hoped was a casual smile, "Looks like I beat you to it, Linda." She glanced at Bucky and continued, "I was just coming out here to tell you to head home." She nodded toward the window at the rapidly darkening sky, "looks like it'll be a pretty bad storm."

"You know what, Dr. Sagan- I'm going to take you up on that." Linda stood, gathering her coat and bag. "You know how I hate driving in the rain."

Gemma smiled, still very aware of the large, silent man beside her. "Get home safe, alright? And call if there's any trouble."

Linda gave them both a happy little wave as she walked backward toward the door. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor. You take care now, Sergeant." She added, remembering the soldier at the last second.

The door slammed shut with a quiet jingle… and then there were two.

Gemma looked up at Bucky and spoke in a voice much calmer than she felt, "After you." She gestured through the doorway into her office.

As she followed after him, her mind raced with panicked thoughts.

 _Do I call him Bucky? No! You idiot- he told you to call him that when he was 8 inches deep._

 _James? Too casual- and he had preferred Bucky over it._

 _Definitely not Sergeant- not after last time._

"Mr. Barnes," che cringed as her voice wavered. Clearing her throat with a serene smile, she nodded at his usual seat. "Please, sit down." She lowered herself to the chair opposite him and smoothed her trousers down her thighs. "I'm glad you made it. How are you?"

 _Well here goes nothing_ , she thought as she folded her hands in her lap and smiled- waiting to see if he'd speak at all today.

* * *

 **Hello All!**

 **1\. What do you think?**

 **2\. Should I do occasional chapters of Bucky's journal entries?**

 **As always, please review with any critiques, input or ideas about this story or any others!**

 **-M-**


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